


so goodbye yellow brick road

by rubanrose



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Light Angst, M/M, Reminiscing, basically minhyuk just remembers his life, bin is an idol, but its really light, minhyuk works in a garage, theres cute stuff, trainee life throwbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubanrose/pseuds/rubanrose
Summary: Maybe in another dimension, Bin was a mechanic and Minhyuk was a celebrity. In another, they were groupmates, performing on stage together every day. In another, neither of them had made it, and maybe they were still friends, living their lives anonymously. But in this reality, Minhyuk worked in a garage and Bin’s last hit was still at the top of Melon’s chart after a month of its release.or, Minhyuk meets an old friend from his trainee days and reminiscences on his life after being kicked back into reality





	so goodbye yellow brick road

**Author's Note:**

> basically i wrote this because i've always wondered about all those trainees who never debut. I used to find them pitiful, having wasted so many years of their lives reaching for something they'd never get. but my view has changed lately and i tried to see it in another way.  
> i know bin and minhyuk were both trainees for a long time, and this is what i came up with when i wondered what would've happened if one of them had debuted and the other hadn't 
> 
> i wrote this quickly so there might be some typos

It was not exactly easy to smoothly slide into a conversation that Minhyuk was acquainted with many currently debuted idols. It wasn’t exactly that he was embarrassed about his past, although many people might see it as that. His journey into adulthood was something he kept deeply hidden in his heart, and giving people only a small part of the story felt like lying to them, so he never brought it up. 

It wasn’t a big deal, really. There were no way people would find out. What were the chances of him running into a celebrity? 

Really, never in his life had he expected that Moon Bin would show up at the small garage he worked at on a Monday morning, car keys swinging in his hand, his blue Nissan Skyline parked in front of the building. It was an older model, maybe from around 2000, maybe even older. Minhyuk couldn’t tell from far away, but every bone in his body ached to get in and go for a ride. It seemed to be quite well kept, shiny and without a scratch, the paint probably recent. 

He had been so caught up with the car that he hadn’t realized Jinwoo was elbowing him quite insistently. Coming back to his senses, he gave the older boy an annoyed look, noticing his panicked expression. 

Oh, right. 

Moon Bin. 

“I didn’t call beforehand, but do you have any time this morning?” Moon Bin asked as soon as he stepped inside, the glass door closing behind him. 

Jinwoo quickly shook his head, retreating back into the garage, leaving Minhyuk alone with the celebrity in the waiting room. 

“Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t pass up the chance to take a look at this baby,” Minhyuk said, wondering if he’d recognize him. 

“Wait, Park Minhyuk?” 

Bin’s eyes went to his tag on his work suit to make sure, and Minhyuk watched as his face change quickly, first being painted with surprise, then excitement, and then, as he looked around and realized Minhyuk was a car mechanic, a hard to decipher expression that was a mix between guilt and pity. The atmosphere turned awkward, and it was all on Bin. 

Minhyuk would’ve probably reacted the same. As he looked at the boy in front of him, he felt like he was seeing another version of himself, one that didn’t fail the way Minhyuk had. Years prior, their lives had branched out in two. Bin had chosen to go right, and Minhyuk had been forcefully pushed into the left branch, dreams ripped out from his fingertips. Maybe in another dimension, Bin was a mechanic and Minhyuk was a celebrity. In another, they were groupmates, performing on stage together every day. In another, neither of them had made it, and maybe they were still friends, living their lives anonymously. But in this reality, Minhyuk worked in a garage and Bin’s last hit was still at the top of Melon’s chart after a month of its release. 

“Oh man, it’s so nice to see you here,” Minhyuk said, a genuine smile on his face a he took a few steps forward, taking Bin’s hand and initiating a bro hug. The last thing he wanted was Bin’s pity. Pity for what, really? Minhyuk was as happy as he could be. 

“Haven’t seen you in so long, I’ve been wondering what you’re up to now,” Bin said, starting to seem more at ease. He settled in a chair as Minhyuk sat on top of the absent receptionist’s desk. 

There was so much to tell, and Bin probably didn’t have all day. 

It was strange to find himself in front of him after all that time. They had grown up together. Both became trainees at a really young age, and both had spent the most time at the company. They had grown up, seeing friends come and go for years, their friendship blossoming as years passed. Once upon a time, Minhyuk could affirm Bin was his best friend in the whole world. They shared worries, they shared hopes. When they missed home, they’d find comfort in each other. When they felt lost or unsure, they pushed each other. 

That was before, of course. Minhyuk was 17 when he was cut off from the final line up of Fantagio’s new boy group. 

Dreams he had held onto were ripped away, and back to reality he was thrown. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Bin when he moved back into his hometown, leaving during Bin’s school hours and disappearing from his life. He was ashamed of himself, and blamed his failure onto himself. Minhyuk was about to start his last year of high school with no dreams, no goals and no motivation. He believed that all he would ever be good at was performing. His grades were awful, the consequences of years of neglecting school finally hitting him in the face full force. 

Minhyuk had a rough patch. He refused to do any school work, spending his long hours of free time outside on the porch, looking at the sky with thoughts running in his head. He blamed himself a lot, for not being good enough. That maybe if he had eaten better he would’ve grown taller, and maybe had he slept less he could’ve practiced more, and had he been better at singing or dancing, he could’ve debuted. He blamed his haircut, he blamed the state of his skin. He put the blame on each of his weaknesses, and it became so heavy that his qualities could barely hold him up anymore. He was falling down a rabbit hole of dark self deprecating thoughts, and there was nothing anyone could do to help him out. 

And then, one night, he found his dad behind the house, working on an old Mercedes he was trying to repair. Minhyuk sat on a camping chair at his side. 

There was an awkward air between them. Minhyuk had moved into the dorms when he was 12 and it resulted in him going into adulthood without really knowing his own father. Minhyuk watched him, his grey hair and the creases in his skin. He had gotten old, but under the few rays of sunlight left, he seemed to glow. 

“You used to love watching me, when you were little. You learned the names of all the tools and worked as my assistant. You had this obsession with cars,” his father told him. 

Minhyuk could faintly remember it. He remembered his mom scolding him for dirtying his clothes with oil, and getting mad at his dad who only laughed. 

“He’s only a boy,” he’d say. “Let him get dirty and play, before responsibilities start piling up.” 

His mother always responded with something along the lines of “and your responsibilities, have you forgotten them?” as she pointed out his stained hands. 

Minhyuk’s father had been his best buddy, as a kid. He used to feel guilty at first, when he moved away. But then time passed, and Minhyuk had much more to worry about than his old father, left behind without a son to hand him tools as he repaired old cars. 

But on that day, Minhyuk stood up and looked over his dad’s shoulder into the engine. Left without a clue of what was what, his dad explained everything he was doing, and Minhyuk’s life had a meaning again. 

He picked up his books and planned on finishing high school and getting into an auto mechanic school. He had goals again, and a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Life didn’t have to end. It still took months for his anger to fade. The thought of all his lost years, spent uselessly training without any results used to make him so mad. He wasted so much time for a stupid dream. 

But then Minhyuk met Yoon Sanha. The boy, at that time, had been only a shell of what he became years later. He was tired, the kind of tired that wouldn’t just go away with a good night of sleep. Yoon Sanha was tired of life. 

He was a year younger, and he was in the dance club at school, a club Minhyuk had joined in hope that he’d remember what he felt like years before when he started dancing, the way his heart would get excited whenever he’d be in the practice room. Sanha was tall and awkward and he moved slowly, as if he was in water or as if his limbs were too heavy for him. 

They practiced in the metro station near their school where the city had converted the empty space on the higher level into dance studios, or as close as they could come to dance studios. Mirrors lined the walls, the rooms separated into smaller spaces by semi walls. Dance clubs from many schools used the space, the room often full of students by 5:30. On that day, Minhyuk had stayed behind with Sanha, helping him to go over the routine once more. They walked home together, sipping drinks they’d gotten in the vending machine outside. 

“Are you doing okay?” Minhyuk asked. He wasn’t the type to go out of his way for other people’s well being. He had become a bit cold, through his years of being a trainee. He saw kids come and go, and saw more tears fall than most people saw in their entire lives. 

“I’m fine,” Sanha had answered, and Minhyuk could easily tell it wasn’t a genuine answer. 

There were some things about life Minhyuk had to be reminded of after that trainee bubble he had been in. 

The Korean school system was greatly flawed. Minhyuk knew it, yet it was through Sanha that he was reminded of the harsh reality of high school students. 

Yoon Sanha left for school at 6:30 in the morning, sometimes barely able to keep his eyes open. From 7:30AM to 5PM, Sanha sat on his uncomfortable wooden chair and listened to lesson after lesson, sometimes falling asleep. If he did let his fatigue overpower him, no one made the effort of waking him up. There was always cram school to learn, anyway. On most days, he quickly ate dinner at the convenience store before heading to cram school, where he sat for multiple hours, only to learn nothing and get more homework. He went home after 10PM, and then he did homework and studied. During exam periods, he would get 4 hours of sleep every night. 

It was pressure, and work, and it was even worse that Sanha couldn’t see the end of it. His grades were not good enough for him to really choose to go after his dream school or program. It was the case for so many kids. Getting into college was hard, and most of them couldn’t really pursue what they wanted. So in the end, who wouldn’t stop and wonder what they were doing all those efforts for? 

And Minhyuk realized how lucky he had been to be a trainee. Because while it was hard, and a lot of pressure, there was a dream at the end, and goals. Long term goals, short term goals, always something to reach for. It was a luxury not many kids in the country could have, and he hadn’t realized it before that day. 

On that day, after understanding Sanha and his fatigue, Minhyuk laid in bed, unable to sleep. He had been so full of anger that he found his heart weirdly light and empty without it. He decided to tuck inside of it in the empty space his memories from his trainees days, his old hopes and dreams. He was so thankful, to have been able to spend all those years dreaming. 

He didn’t know then, but Sanha would end up being much more than just his friend from the dance club. He was his roommate in college, and well, they were still technically roommates. 

“Why don’t I bring your car in and we can take a look together?” Minhyuk proposed to Bin, and the singer nodded, throwing him the keys. 

They grabbed dinner together that night in one of the restaurants they used to go to together when they were trainees. They sat at a table in the back, and Bin told Minhyuk everything that happened after he left. 

Fantagio’s boy group did debut, with Dongmin and Myungjun, and all those boys Minhyuk hadn’t given a second look to back then, assuming they’d just end up leaving like most other kids did. But Bin wasn’t part of the lineup, rather debuting as a solo artist 2 years later. He told Minhyuk about all the worries he had had back then, and how stressful it had been to be by himself on stage. He told him he missed him a lot, and he felt guilty after he left. He told him he had had a slump, and that he almost gave up before realizing being an idol was his only option and performing was all he could do. 

But Bin was doing well. His albums sold well, his songs charted great, and the public loved him. Minhyuk was proud of everything he’d accomplished. 

“I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I was ashamed, back then,” Minhyuk admitted, and Bin gave him a sad look. “But please, don’t be sad for me. It’s been so long, and I’m so happy with my life. I actually really did find an interest in cars, and I love my job. I’m saving up to buy my own garage,” Minhyuk told him, smiling brightly. “And if you want,” he continued, reaching into his backpack and pulling out an envelope and handing it to the singer, “you could come to my wedding next month.” 

Bin’s eyes widened at the news, a large smile breaking onto his lips. 

“You’re getting married? Wow, man, that’s incredible,” Bin said genuinely. 

“Sanha’s just got his first permanent job in an elementary school, he’s a music teacher. We both love kids, so we might adopt in a few years, after I buy my garage and when we can find a better home than our tiny apartment. We’re really happy,” Minhyuk told him, smiling fondly at the thought of his fiancé, the tired boy whose empty eyes were now filled with light. 

“You know, you’re really impressive. The life you built for yourself, it’s amazing. It really warms my heart to see you happy like this. I don’t think I would’ve been able to pull myself up like you did, had those years I have spent training been for nothing. I don’t have anything but my career,” Bin admitted. 

“There’s nothing impressive about this, hyung. I just found new dreams to reach for. And I’m happy, but I would’ve been happy in your place too. Performing used to be what I loved the most. I had such dark thoughts, after I was kicked out. But no matter what, there’ll always be something else you can hold onto. And instead of dancing and singing, I found cars, and I found Sanha. Life doesn’t end. Plans change. That’s all.” 

Minhyuk stared across the table at the man, and he knew that the path he had ended up on was worth just as much or even more as the one he had lost. 

No time was truly wasted when it was spent dreaming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> a part of this was also inspired by my classmates, because a lot of them have told me they probably can't get into the programs they want to get into, and i find it sad how theyre not really allowed to dream. i think it must be quite special to be a trainee and have something to hold onto.  
> sanha's every day is based off them too, as i am an exchange student in taiwan where i believe the school system is similar to korea. they work so hard.  
> the metro station is also based off a real metro station here in taiwan.


End file.
